The First Day of the Rest of Your Life
by billmovementforever
Summary: WARNING! DANGER MR. ROBINSON, DANGER! DANGER! I am currently editing this story. It is unreadable as it is. If you value your IQ and do not wish it to plumit downward like a rouge elevator, you will move on. I am very serious. Thank you for your time.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is shorter than I meant it to be, but later chapters will be longer. I just wanted to be able to explain the back story a bit, because it just felt wrong just to jump striaght foward to Azkaban (trust me, I tried). Like I said in the preview, this is my first story, so PLEASE critique it. Anywho, enough of my rambling. R&R (I have no idea what that means, but everyone says it....I'm assuming it means read and review)!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these people, that's all JK Rowling!

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Harry Potter made his way across the grounds of Hogwarts, and Lord Voldermort followed. Harry kept replaying the prophecy again and again in his head. "...either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..." Harry was terrified. Tonight, his purpose-his reason for existence-would be fulfilled. Or he would die... Harry shook the thought from his mind. All he had to worry about now was finding Dumbledore, or at least some type of cover! He put his wand behind his back and yelled "Immobulus" just as a streak of green light narrowly missed him.  
  
All of a sudden, Harry fell to his knees. He was cringing and screaming, pain shooting through every inch of his body. He felt as if his skin was on fire. All he wanted to do was die. "I could grant you that wish," a voice told him inside his head. "N-never..." Harry felt a fresh burst of pain throughout his entire body. "Are you sure boy? It would easy...oh so easy. Maybe if you agree now I can make it quick?" Harry closed his eyes. The pain was unbearable, but he couldn't give up, too much was resting on his shoulders. "It won't be me," he said hoarsely. "What did you say?" Voldermort asked, fresh pain shooting through his body. "IT WON'T BE ME!" Harry yelled as he got to his feet, almost falling over again. His joints screamed with pain, and his scar felt like it was ripping open. Harry knew he had to act quickly, before Voldermort could attack him again, so he cast the first spell that came to mind. "This time it will work-it has to..." Harry pointed his wand at Lord Voldermort's chest and yelled "CRUCIO!" Even though Voldermort was on the ground, Harry could already feel himself loosing power...he was too weak.  
  
Voldermort picked up his wand and quickly got to his feet. "You are just like your father, he too was foolish" Voldermort sneered, and held his wand at Harry's heart "He was crying in the end, you know, crying for me to spare his life, spare his life and took yours and your mud-blood mother's as well." "YOU LIE!" Harry yelled, though his throat burned with every word he said. "Do I, Potter? Deep down, you know it to be true. Your father was a coward, whose ego caused his death. Voldermort cackled as Harry grabbed his scar. "Don't worry, Potter. The pain will be gone soon enough. But enough talk. I've waited seventeen long years for this moment...time to follow in your father's footsteps, Harry." Voldermort raised his wand to Harry's chest, and started to mutter the curse that would end his life.

Harry stood still, frozen in place. There was no use in trying to block it, he knew it was impossible. He couldn't run, it was his destiny to face Voldermort. He just stood completely still, waiting for death.  
  
Just as Voldermort completed the unforgivable curse, a tall, red-haired boy jumped in front of Harry. Harry stood, wide eyed, in Ron's shadow as he was engulfed in the bright green light, feeling powerless and alone.


	2. Freedom

A/N: Jesus tap-dancing Christ this took me a long time to finish, mainly because I'm never REALLY happy with the way my stories come out. By the way, I'd like to say that after this chapter, the story will be moved to the Harry/Luna category and will have a sub-genre (romance). I promise that Chapter 2 will not take as long!!!  
  
P.S. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!! Y'all are awesome!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters except for the fat guy in the ugly brown suit...and if you want him you can have 'im!!!  
  
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Harry's eyes shot open. He was breathing heavily, as if he couldn't have enough of the putrid air around him. His faded, tattered robes clung to him, drenched in sweat.  
  
"Ron..."  
  
He bit his lower lip and swallowed hard, trying his best to hold back his tears. He looked around his dark, damp room. There were scratches on the stone walls, where past inmates had tried to count the days, but had either lost interest or gave up hope. There were also tattered pieces of cloth dangling from the low ceiling, where others had took it upon themselves to end their suffering.  
  
"Three of those are mine" he thought.  
  
Each time he tried to commit suicide, the scratchy burlap that had once been his blanket snapped, as if he was only living for the fate's amusement.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a loud bang in the distance. Then another. And another. With each one, flashes of colored light shown dimly through the cracks in the ancient stone.  
  
"Fireworks," he thought.  
  
He picked up a rock that he found beside him and walked over the wall opposite him. He scratched a notch in the stone and took a stepped back.  
  
"Seven," he said to himself. He slumped down beside the wall he had been sleeping at before, and closed his eyes, still hearing fireworks in the distance.  
  
"Soon," he whispered , as his head fell back against the cold stonewall, "soon."  
  
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Harry wondered how many days had passed since he had heard the fireworks.  
  
"It doesn't matter," he thought, "no one cares, not after the way I treated them...not after what I did."  
  
Everyone was so...happy the night Voldermort fell. Everyone wanted his picture, or his autograph, but all he wanted was to be alone. Harry sighed heavily laid down on the cold stone floor, closing his eyes, letting sleep overtake him once again.  
  
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He was in the Room of Requirement, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He raised his hand, wiping silent tears away with his sleeve. Just then, someone walked in, sobbing silently.  
  
Harry muttered a spell under his breath and the floating candles in the roomed started burning brightly. Harry sat up on his bed, and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"What is it?" he said, a little bit louder than he meant to.  
  
His head was throbbing...  
  
"Oh, I-I didn't know anyone was in here...sorry."  
  
Harry recognized the voice as Hermione's. He had been trying to talk to her for days, but didn't know what to say. Harry wanted more than anything to reach out and comfort he, to tell her everything was going to be okay.  
  
But he couldn't.  
  
He couldn't because he didn't believe it himself.  
  
Hermione, taking his silence for anger, whispered "I-I'm sorry" and ran out of the room.  
  
Before he knew what he was doing, Harry was running after her. Since he had played Quidditch for 7 years, this was no difficult task. He reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned to face him, tears welling up in her eyes.  
  
"It w-wasn't you fault," she whimpered. Harry bit his lower lip and turned his head to the side, just incase a tear escaped his eyes.  
  
"Harry...the day he died..." Hermione took a deep breath and continued. "The day he died, h-he asked me to marry him." Harry returned his gaze to Hermione.  
  
"So he finally did it..." Harry said, thinking out loud. "What? What did he do?" Hermione asked. Harry chuckled, then started laughing out loud.  
  
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, clearly getting impatient.  
  
"He had been meaning to ask you out since Christmas, Hermione. He had everything planed out, from the wedding to the honeymoon. He even had a couple of houses in mind."  
  
Hermione giggled; "that sounds just like Ron."  
  
They were both silent for what seemed like an eternity, both trying to soak up every ounce of the happiness they were feeling, as if their life depended on it.  
  
"I miss him so much, Harry..." Harry was at a loss of words. This was the first time he and Hermione had talked in two weeks, and he was glad that she didn't blame him. Harry heard voices down the hall then looked at his watch.  
  
"You're going to be late for lunch if you don't hurry, Hermione."  
  
"Aren't you going?" Hermione asked, wiping the tears from her eyes once more.  
  
"Dobby's bringing me some food from the kitchens soon. I'm just not ready to be berated with notepads and cameras again."  
  
"Then I'll eat with you. You've never abandoned me, Harry Potter, and I'm not about to abandon you."  
  
"Thanks, Hermione...really...but I really just want to be alone now. I've got a lot to think about."  
  
Hermione looked up at Harry, then down the stairs toward the Great Hall. "Then I'll be alone with you."  
  
Harry really wanted to be alone, but he knew by now that if Hermione was anything she was stubborn as a hippogriff.  
  
"Alright, alright, you can eat with me. Come on, Dobby should be bringing my food right about now, I'm sure he won't mind bringing you something as well. As Harry turned to walk away, Hermione grabbed him.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Harry...thank you. I haven't laughed since Ron died. I really needed that."  
  
"I don't really think I did much, Hermione. But...You're welcome."  
  
Hermione said nothing. She moved closer.  
  
"You've helped a lot Harry. More than you'll ever really know."  
  
"Why is she so close?" Harry thought.  
  
"The only other time a girl had been this close is when Cho-" Her soft lips tasted of tears, and for that moment, he forgot everything that happened in the past week. Hermione stepped back and gasped.  
  
"Harry...I-I'm sorry...I shouldn't of...I didn't mean to..."  
  
This time Harry kissed her. He felt her arms go around his waist, and he replied in kind. She released and stepped back, fresh tears streaming down her face.  
  
"I'm sorry Hermione," said Harry, "for Ron...for everything."  
  
Hermione nodded, and she and Harry left for the Room of Requirement hand-in hand, where they fell asleep in each others arms by the fire.  
  
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Harry awoke slowly. His whole body ached, but he was used to the pain. Seven years of sleeping on a stone floor hade made sure of that. He closed his eyes tightly, determined not to cry. He remembered everything about Hermione, down to the smallest detail: Her brown, curly hair, even though there was still a lot, it wasn't near as bushy as it was during the first year. He remembered the sound of her voice, even the taste of her lips...  
  
Right then, the heavy wooden door of his cell opened, and a chubby man in an ugly brown suit and bright red necktie walked in, wand at his side, stopping just a few feet from him. He looked at Harry in utter disgust, as if he was too important to be socializing with a grungy prisoner like him. His pompous attitude reminded him of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Your time is up, Potter. You're a free man. Someone is waiting outside to take you off the island."  
  
With that, the portly man turned on his heel and left, leaving the cell door open. Harry just sat there, bewildered. He was...free? Being free was something Harry gave up on long ago. He heard the footsteps returning, and within seconds the man was in the doorway.  
  
"If you don't want to rot here, you'll get off your ass and follow me."  
  
Harry stood, his legs almost giving way under him for lack of nutrition. The jailor seemed to notice this.  
  
"Perhaps if you'd of eaten your two daily meals you'd be in better shape."  
  
Harry glared at him, then finally started walking toward the door. When the man saw this, started walking down the hallway towards a flight of stairs. Harry closed the cell door behind him, and started after the jailor. After walking up four flights of stairs, they finally reached massive stone wall at the end of a long hallway. The jailor muttered a few words, then tapped a sequence of stones.  
  
"She already has your belongings," said the jailor.  
  
"She?" Harry asked in a horse voice.  
  
"Yes, she. Now," he touched the door with his wand, "get out of my sight." The heavy iron door began to creek open, revealing the first sunlight he'd seen in seven long years. He inhaled deeply, taking in the damp, salty ocean air, then stepped outside, the iron door closing behind him. 


End file.
